Seattle

Steve picked me up at the airport on Friday night in his small red sports car. He played his CD of the theme song from “Magnum P.I.” as we drove away from the airport. We went to a dive bar on the south side of town - a blue collar place, the kind favored by Steve. He eschews the yuppie type places. We had a few beers and caught up with each other's lives.

The next morning we headed out to Pike's Place Market and we got a salmon and a few other things to barbecue. I wanted to get a whole salmon (guts and all), but we compromised. Steve insisted on having them gut the thing, but we left the head on. A quick stop at the market for some good Northwest Microbrews and we were set for the party.

Steve had some teriyaki chicken marinating, sticky rice, and a bunch of Hawaiian food. Steve lives in a 2 bedroom condo in Bellevue. We rearranged the furniture to make room for folks to sit. Steve was explaining to me how having a live plant in your house makes the girls think you’re sensitive (must be reading the same stuff as Maurizio). He grabbed his small tree by the trunk and started to move it across the living room. The rootball came out of the pot, leaving a trail of potting soil across the carpet. “Well, maybe I’m not all that sensitive after all” he said.

I set up the barbecue on the balcony and set about cooking. Steve put on some C and K and Olomana CDs – along with some Hawaiian slack key guitar. We sat there on the balcony on a partly cloudy day sipping a cold beer and I could feel the pain start to fade to the strains of the Hawaiian music of my youth. Maybe life isn’t so bad after all.

It was a great party. About 25 people showed up over the course of the afternoon and evening. Most were folks from Hawaii – so we all played “what high school you went?” (It’s a Hawaii thing) The salmon, which was probably swimming that morning, was wonderfully cooked – if I don’t say so myself.

At about 10:00 the party was winding down, there were about 10 of us left and we decided to go out dancing. We piled into two big SUVs (everyone seems to drive them in Seattle) and drove downtown. We parked in a garage in what must be near the club district, as there were a bunch of places all close together. As we were walking to the first club Steve pointed down a street and said “Don’t go down that way.” I thought he might be warning me about a high crime area, “Mahus li’ dat” (which is Hawaiian for “Those are the gay clubs.”) That's OK. I’ve never had any luck with lesbians.

We all danced together at this awesome club, which I can’t remember the name of – in fact from here out the details become a bit fuzzy. There was lots of tequila and rum involved. Due to some inane liquor control law all drinking establishments in Washington must close at 2:00 a.m. And they consider themselves civilized? (Although I was later told there was some kind of “after hours” exceptions some places have – but this place shut down.)

It was too early to go home. Walking back to the car, some of the folks of the party started pointing down “that street”. It turns out that some of the gay dance clubs never got liquor permits – so they are open until 5:00 a.m. They only serve soft drinks, but this is probably a good thing at this point. One of the girls snuck up behind me and said “Let commit disgusting gross heterosexual acts, right in front of them.” I laughed. Hey, I’m up for that.

We ended up in this really cool gay dance club. They played 80’s type electronic dance music (think New Order, Erasure, Depeche Mode, the Cure). The songs were expertly mixed together. There was a guy dancing on one of the tables, wearing (and I swear I’m not making this up) whitey tighties, mirrored sunglasses and a policeman’s cap. It was so “Village People”. He was really well muscled and could dance well, too. He really added character to the place.

We got back to Steve’s place at about 5:30. The sky was beginning to turn gray in the east. All the girls took off quickly. I sat down on his couch and he brought a couple of beers. This could qualify as my earliest morning beer ever. I finished telling him the tale of Lynn. I had been giving him bits and pieces over the day. Now he had the whole story. (for new readers, start at about Christmas of last year – it’s a long story.)

“Man, how do you sleep?”

“Actually, I can’t.” I was surprised that he asked this. I didn’t think he was paying attention that well. “Alcohol helps.”

“I’ve got scotch.”

“After my beer.”

“Rich,” he sighed and shook his head “she’s a jerk, of the worst kind. She held on to you until someone better came along. Heck, she even knew about him and was going after him while she was sleeping with you. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t let you do that. You shouldn’t have anything to do with her.”

“I still love her.”

“You don’t need her as a lover. You don’t need her as a friend. You don’t even need her as an enemy. Forget her. Walk away – don’t look back. Just walk away.”

“You never met her did you? She was at UH the same time we were, but she was an undergrad”

“No I don’t think so. Is she cute?”

“Cuter than Carrie.”

“Ho, no way.” Carrie was the sweet heart of the dorm and known as the cutest girl around. He paused and was contemplating this. Once Carrie had left a note on my dorm room door. Steve added a “Hugs and Kisses” to her signature – and he did a pretty good forgery. Other folks added more crudely done (and crudely worded) P.S.s to her note. By the time I saw it, it was pretty X-Rated.

“Yeah, she’s really beautiful.” I remarked of Lynn.

He was clearly conflicted by this (hey, we’re guys, we think with our dicks), but reaffirmed “You don’t need her. Walk away. What ever happened to Sarah? She was great.”

Steve was going to be my best man. Sarah and I were engaged, and almost got married. “I heard that she moved back to Hawaii. She stopped answering my e-mail and phone calls. She didn’t even want to be friends.”

“That’s too bad. She was a really nice girl. You haven't had much luck with the ladies for a while.” He stated the obvious.

"Hell no. Bad Karma I guess."

We finished the beers, reminiscing about other girls from college. Before turning in I slammed down a couple shots of scotch.

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Nursing hangovers Sunday morning (well really afternoon, but it seemed like morning), we had brunch at a funky restaurant on Green Lake. The food was good, the coffee hot, but the waitress way too perky. It was gray and drizzling outside.

Flying home that evening – once again sleep deprived and hungover I realized how lucky I was to have friends like Maurizio and Steve.